


impressed upon us

by mariie



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Art Criticism, Friendship, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-07-11
Updated: 2012-07-11
Packaged: 2017-11-09 15:28:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 617
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/457038
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mariie/pseuds/mariie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>it's dawn and it's spring and the paintings look oily and sharp in the clarity of morning.<br/>(oneshot)</p>
            </blockquote>





	impressed upon us

It was a terribly bright April morning in the old station, the glass face of the clock glowing and ticking the hours by, the cold wavy bench solid under the weight of the two men sitting upon it. The museum was not yet open at this early dawning hour, but France had assured the staff that it was a matter of national security, and flashed some kind of ID at them that made several jaws drop. The sharp industrial nouveau beauty was even more clear in the early morning, before breakfast, and it brought the paintings into razor-sharp focus. It was stunning.   
England looked at the painting in front of him critically, with the practiced eye of a man who has looked at too many paintings for too many years. He shuddered. “It’s as terrible as I remember.”  
France raised an eyebrow. “It’s Renoir,” he said, as though he were explaining a very simple concept to a very small child. He gestured to the painting in front of them, which was a soft, well lit oil in a golden frame. A girl smiled sympathetically at them, in a white dress, her round face framed by soft black hair.   
England smiled sympathetically and patted France on the shoulder. “It is, isn’t it,” he agreed sadly. “I really do love his original idea of painting a blurry girl looking at something out of frame. He did like to think outside of the box!”  
France wrinkled his nose, “At least it isn’t as vulgar and dark as this nonsense,” and gestured to the Cézanne adjacent.   
“At least Cézanne had the ability to paint something other than smeared fat girls with big eyes and curly hair. Painting people you want to sleep with does not a good artist make.”  
France looked at the painting of the hunched over, skinny gentleman juxtaposed with that of the soft, round girl. He chuckled. “I would agree.”  
“Fine. Fine. I see your point. All accusations aside, you cannot possibly have such bad taste that you really think this postcard garbage is more artistic than something with real substance. It’s as bad as Monet, painting his backyard like an unfocused photograph.”  
France shrugged. “It does nothing for me. Dada has more substance. Cézanne only paints like a hungry man. I can’t look at it before breakfast.”  
“Oh, how surprising that you and Hemingway have the exact same opinion on Cézanne! It’s almost as if you recently read that stupid Paris book again. How shocking.”  
“Please,” France scoffed. “I helped him edit it.”  
England decided not to argue the fact that that was not his point, not at all, and shook his head at the painted pretty black-haired girl brushing her hair in front of them, instead focusing on the austere, outlined Mme. Cézanne in her pale blue dress. “I think the Orangerie would be nice later.”  
“Why, so you can mock my brilliant taste more? They have all the water lilies, almost.” He smiled.   
“Yes, because why see flowers in real life when you can go indoors and look at an ancient painting of them?”  
“Shh. He was a genius.”  
“You’re entitled to your opinion,” England said.   
France gave him a half-lidded look, like a dead fish. “You are a cruel little man. I want to go get some breakfast. The museum will be opening soon.”  
England nodded. “Some tea, later.”  
“Now, it must be coffee.”  
They stood, together, united for once in a quest for a place to sit and a hot drink, and in differing impressions of a lost blurry groundbreaking movement. They had had enough of tourists for the day, and they walked out under the skylit ceiling and outside into the world.

**Author's Note:**

> the musée d'orsay is a really lovely place to spend an afternoon. it's in a converted train station and is full of cool paintings you've always wanted to see, even if you don't like impressionism. 
> 
> the 'accusation' made is that Cézanne was gay, which is kind of a random theory if you ask me but no one did!
> 
> here are the paintings mentioned, in order:  
> http://www.renoirgallery.com/gallery.asp?id=206 - young woman seated  
> http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Portrait_of_Gustave_Geffroy - portrait of gustave geffroy  
> http://www.renoirgallery.com/gallery.asp?id=176 - woman combing her hair (la toilette)  
> http://www.musee-orsay.fr/en/collections/index-of-works/notice.html?no_cache=1&nnumid=78699 - portrait of mme. cézanne
> 
> un-edited and bad/written after a trip to the musée d'orsay/thanks for reading xo


End file.
